


speaking in tongues

by desiredeffect



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, just as an fyi, okay so im basically just giving myself feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-10
Updated: 2012-09-10
Packaged: 2017-11-13 23:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/508703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desiredeffect/pseuds/desiredeffect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I calculate a point eight per cent chance of success" Delta’s voice is blasé, and York is momentarily frustrated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	speaking in tongues

“If you were a laser you would be set on stunning.” He shifts, kind of hopeful, to risk a glance at Delta who is, as always, irritatingly impassive in any situation. The unit doesn’t seem bothered by the continual interruption, almost content to run the different numbers, like it’s a soothing touch to his constantly processing capabilities. As if to lessen the grind of his suddenly sinking hope into the dirt, Delta at least has the decency to look at the ground.  
  
“I calculate a point eight per cent chance of success.” Delta’s voice is blasé, and York is momentarily frustrated.  
  
“Do you know karate, because your body’s kickin’?” York is fast reaching the end of his rope over here and if he tries anymore he wouldn’t put it past Delta to take the metaphorical fibre in hand and strangle him with it.  
  
York gives the chances of success of that action a round zero. However, this line of inquiry is fast drying up. Maybe he should just actually try to start a conversation with Carolina. You know, like normal people would do.  
  
When faced with a Freelancer.  
  
The toughest Freelancer.  
  
The most easily irritated Freelancer.  
  
On second thoughts, maybe the pick-up lines are the way to go.  
  
“Are you wearing space pants? Because your ass is out of this world.”

“I must inform you that if you were to try that ‘pick-up line’, that Agent Carolina—“  
  
“I got it D, that was sarcasm.”  
  
“I apologise. I was unaware.”  
  
The urge to break his face again, this time by slamming it repeatedly into a wall, is growing and York mournfully gives up maintaining a decent conversation with his AI – after all, it’s relatively difficult to lull yourself into a fantastical delusion with the most insanely logical artificial intelligence you’ve ever met keeping permanent residence inside your head.  
  
The face-beating-peeling-himself-off-the-wall-with-self-flagellation is usually the next step, but York can’t find it in himself to peel his face off the table it’s sunk on to, let alone any actual walls. “Maybe I’m just going to die alone," he mutters into the worn metal.  
  
The table doesn't respond, which is frankly disappointing.  
  
“In an event of usage as a ‘line’, I calculate a ten percent chance of success. Although may I add that deceit is often considered to be unacceptable in the ritual or personable agreement.” Delta’s voice is dry, and York can’t help the quirked eyebrow.  
  
“’Personable agreement’?”

“My data banks did not inform me of other potential synonyms to describe a similar situation.”  
  
“The word is ‘relationship’, D. Relationship. Besides that, what are you talking about when you say ‘deceit’?”  
  
“Noted. Deceit implies lying, which, in most cases evidenced, leads only to both parties getting hurt.”  
  
York has to consider that maybe Delta is developing the more unsavoury habits that he himself practices on many occasions. Evasive, and almost a good distraction too. If Delta’s lying skills were not on par with York’s. “Not what I’m asking, Delta. Are you suggesting I’m not going to die alone?”  
  
"Although I have no concept of forever in your capacity, there is no probability or situation that has occurred which suggests an increased chance of you expiring while on your own."  
  
"Thanks D, very reassuring," York mutters to himself, and isn't that a blow to the old self-esteem.  
  
Delta is suspiciously quiet in response, and York raises his head off the table and motions with his hand, a stern look when Delta steps onto his palm without argument.  
  
That never happens.  
  
"D?"  
  
"You won't die alone, Agent York. If it provides a measure of comfort, I will always be with you to make sure you are not alone."

There’s always a snappy retort on York’s tongue, it’s a talent he’s always had, the sharpest wit, the ability to have a comeback in a half second span of time, and it’s something he has forever been proud of. But now, he’s just kind of left there, Delta’s words sort of metaphorically ringing in the sudden deafening silence. The AI’s head rises, falls, an almost awkward acknowledgement of York’s non-answer, and the green glow flickers in what can only be disappointment.

“Agent York?”

York drags his head off the table, and glances at the unit, lets a short grin fall across his features, feeling the pull of muscle over scar tissue.

“Thanks, D. It is always nice to be appreciated.”

“It is nothing, Agent York,” Delta replies, and then winks out of York’s line of sight.

“You don’t know how wrong _that_ logic is,” York murmurs, before he realises he’s talking to empty air.

Maybe he won’t die alone after all.


End file.
